


Whose Languid Lips Are Sweeter

by Jougetsu



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/pseuds/Jougetsu
Summary: Edmund squirmed under the weight of his new crown and robes of state. The metaphorical weight that is. Narnian finery was indecently comfortable.Or Edmund meets the God of Revels.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



The coronation was not a single ceremony, you understand. What coronation ever could be? But most especially for a country that had suffered a hundred years of winter the welcoming of spring, spring at last, had to stretch out until every last Narnian was healed by its embrace. Edmund squirmed under the weight of his new crown and robes of state. The metaphorical weight that is. Narnian finery was indecently comfortable. 

His siblings deserved the toasts in their honor and all the other accolades. In fact it cheered Edmund to see them so honored. Which was novel because he had always been jealous of them to some degree for longer than he could remember. This was a much nicer sensation. It very nearly made up for the self-loathing that dogged Edmund’s soul. 

Aslan had forgiven him. Naturally, He would even if Edmund didn’t deserve it. More importantly his brother and sisters had forgiven him, which was even less deserved. 

“Listen you,” Edmund told his reflection on the third morning of festivities. “You’re not going to spoil things anymore. You will smile and be dutiful and live up to this Pevensie dynasty even if it kills you.” 

The face in the mirror seemed on the verge of a sulk and Edmund would not go down to breakfast until he had managed to tame it into something blanker and less offensive. He was the picture of humility and grace as denizen after denizen brought gifts to celebrate the new royal family. The meal itself was a gift as the dryads and naiads brought the bounty of the forests and streams. 

“I won’t be surprised if we all gain two stone in a week,” Peter joked as he handed the plate of sausages and grilled fishes to Edmund. 

“I hope not,” Susan said half-jokingly. “The food tastes realer here, don’t you think? As if there were more flavors here than exist in our world.” 

Edmund suddenly recalled the ecstasy of the Turkish Delight.

As if on cue his stomach roiled and he rushed to quaff a goblet of something to chase away the phantom taste.

Lucy, too perceptive by the half, glanced at Edmund and quickly chimed in, “We’ll get the best exercise. The air is fresher, too. Do you think we can go riding later?”

Riding they did go. They took the ordinary horses, for the talking Horses were out and about conducting their own reunions with loved ones. They were in sight of Cair Paravel by sunset when Edmund had the urge to be alone or perhaps lonesome. He could not suss out the difference even in his own head.

“I’ll be back before you even get to the second course of the evening feast,” he promised and gave them the reins of his horse. “I need a walk.” 

“Don’t be sad,” said Lucy. “It would be awful if you were out here feeling terrible while we feasted.” 

“I won’t be sad,” Edmund’s lips lied before his brain could catch up. 

The way to the castle was flush with trees, spry birches and peppy poplars. Edmund might have leaned against one if he wasn’t afraid of accidentally annoying the tree folk. He did find a smooth flat rock covered in moss and lay upon it (there weren’t stone equivalents of dryads were there?). 

He must have fallen asleep for when he opened his eyes twilight had settled in full, the sky a tapestry of unknown constellations. 

“Hello, little king,” a voice said next to him. 

Edmund sat up with a start, assuming it was one of the tree folk returned. “I am sorry for intruding.” 

But when he turned Edmund saw it was not one of the tree folk. 

Laughing eyes, saucy black curls crowned with ivy, and a leopard skin about his waist there was only one person in all the worlds this youth before him could be.

At least according to Edmund’s education. 

“Are you Bacchus?” He felt insipid for saying that aloud. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m Edmund Pevensie.” 

Bacchus laughed, boyish and boisterous and buoyant and all sorts of nice bouncy words that started with “b.” He had none of the stiffness of a Renaissance portrait or the eerie litheness of a Greek statue - the only likenesses Edmund had seen of him hitherto fore. In this time and place he reminded Edmund of nothing so much as a beloved senior at school that one couldn’t help being enamored of. 

“I’ve been called that,” Bacchus at last replied. “Though really don’t you think Endendros suits me better at the moment?”

“Not all,” Edmund shot back. A queer giddiness unfurled in his chest. He was speaking with a figure of myth and legend! That was even more startling than suddenly being crowned king. “You’re not in a tree, you’re sitting on a rock with me.”

“So I am,” Bacchus winked. “Budge over, little king, you’re sitting on the best moss.” 

“How is it that you’re in Narnia and in my world? Or used to be in my world? I don’t really know how it all works,” Edmund babbled. 

“How is it that you’re in Narnia, but born in another world? The universe is full of strange doings,” said Bacchus. “Though it is true that mortals experience less traveling between worlds than someone like myself.” 

Edmund could have sworn that Bacchus was preening. Which was sort of funny really. 

“I must thank you,” Bacchus said after several minutes of companionable silence. “It has been too long since I’ve been able to awaken in Narnia. Which was a great sorrow for it is one of the home-like worlds I’ve had the pleasure of reveling in.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me.” Edmund’s nails pressed crescents into his palms. “That’s Peter and Susan and Lucy’s doing.”

He had not been allowed to say that since the coronation. The others forbid him. But it was always there at the tip of his tongue. _Don’t thank me for I was the White Witch’s accomplice. I am a traitor to a nation that now calls me royal._

Bacchus laughed again, but it was not one of pure merriment for it had a nearly sardonic quality. “Is that what you think, Edmund Pevensie?”

“It is what I know,” Edmund said coldly. He tried to stand to leave, but Bacchus followed.

“I think that if a boy was nothing but mindlessly amiable he would have patted his little sister on the head and told her to have as many teas with fauns as her imagination allowed,” said Bacchus. 

How he knew that was beyond Edmund. It might have been a god thing. Or it might have been simple gossip for many Narnians were acquainted with the story of Lucy’s early visits. 

Dryads were the most notorious gossips according to Mr and Mrs Beaver. 

“And nothing more would have happened in all likelihood,” continued Bacchus. “She would have gone until Tumnus, a nice faun but a bit stuffy for one of that race, forbade her. Then your summer would have come to a close and with that the door to Narnia without any of the rest of you having set foot here.” 

That was certainly one way of looking at it. “Are you trying to tell me that my nasty teasing of my sister led to Narnia’s salvation? Because that’s a long stretch.” 

“What is youth if you are not a savage at some point?” Bacchus danced a few steps and Edmund could have sworn he heard pipes. “Your curiosity, your daring, your malcontent, your choices - the cowardly and the brave - have shaped this country more than sheer innocence could have.”

He took Edmund’s hands and ducked his head until they were eye to eye. “So I will thank you, King Edmund. Even if you do not like it. Even if it makes you squirm. Because you do deserve it. You have paid your price and learnt your lessons. You might as well let yourself be happy.” 

They were much closer to the castle now. The light and noise of the feast were beckoning welcome to the lingering monarch. 

“I might not be happy all at once you know,” Edmund said. “But I’m glad you’re happy with Narnia now. I hope you have lots of revels and bacchanals and-” he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m glad I met you.” 

Bacchus gave that boyish laugh once more then kissed Edmund on the forehead with a odd reverence. “Until we meet again, King Edmund.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they had left the Other World, as they had started calling it, Edmund had been too young to care about romance as it were. Well, romance and lust if he was being entirely truthful.

When they had left the Other World, as they had started calling it, Edmund had been too young to care about romance as it were. Well, romance and lust if he was being entirely truthful. Even Peter, three years older and more worldly, had yet to be distracted by the nuisances caused by longing in the heart or loins at the time of their departure. 

Which left him bewildered and frustrated when such urges finally graced him with their presence. It wasn’t that Edmund wasn’t aware of what happened between men and women. It was more that he hadn’t a clue what to do the first time his dreams took that sort of turn, and leaving a mess to be laundered in their wake, or why he was equally smitten by pretty naiads or handsome centaurs and such. 

Perhaps if they were still Over There he might have asked Peter or a trusted schoolmate. But here in Narnia it was humiliating to be a fourteen year old king trapped and confused in his own desires. He knew he appeared furtive, perhaps even weaselly as he averting his gaze more and more often in court. Edmund feared his subjects might ridicule his infatuations or worse, humor them because of his rank. 

It certainly didn’t help that the worst of his hot-bloodedness coincided with the worst heat of summer. Edmund could hardly sleep between the swampy night air and the fire between his legs that kept flaring to life every time he thought he’d taken care of it. 

One such night found him yanking a new sheet from the trunk in his room to replace on the bed. Long past midnight and frustration souring his temper, Edmund was heartily sick of the want. To blazes with it all!

As he sank back into bed, insufferably warm featherbed, a weight settled at the foot of bed. “Not having a good time of it?” 

Bacchus had not been absent from Narnia these four years past. Indeed he was rather a fixture at the Midsummer festivities, but Edmund had not found the courage to seek him out for conversation since their last encounter. 

“Really? Do you think?” Edmund snarled. 

“Some enjoy it,” shrugged Bacchus. “Others prefer the more tempered appetite of maturity.” 

“I wish it would not seize me!” cried Edmund. “It’s a hunger that is never satisfied and I fear it never well!” 

“Oh, little king,” Bacchus shook his head. “Do not castigate yourself. There are forces of nature that cannot be controlled, only ridden out.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Edmund snorted, but he had the good manners not to point a finger at his companion. “You whip people into this frenzy. You like it!” 

“I do not deny it,” Bacchus lifted his chin proudly, which was ten kinds of awful because his features were even more beautiful in the moonlight and Edmund was already charmed by his beauty. “But there is a difference between a joyous bacchanal and the fits and starts of adolescence.” 

Part of Edmund had been afraid Bacchus would be cruel and tease him. After all he wasn’t a tame god. But Bacchus’ words sounded sincerely sympathetic. 

“When you are older you may attend one and learn the difference for yourself,” Bacchus said. “But for now you need to stop fighting yourself. Take the joy and cast off the anger.” 

Another snort, but Edmund’s lips threatened to quirk into a real smile. “You’re quite the wise old owl, aren’t you?”

“Bite your tongue!” Bacchus affected horror. “How dare you accuse me of good sense!” 

At last it was Edmund’s turn to laugh and it felt cathartic. Some sting had been taken out of all this though he could not explain how. “Forgive me, you are still the king of senseless frenzy and wild merriments.” 

Bacchus got up and began to walk towards the window, where Edmund instinctively knew he would disappear into the moonlight. “Wait!”

He turned around and if Edmund didn’t know any better he would say the god was worried for him. “Yes?”

“Do you mean what you said? About the bacchanals when I’m older?”

“As a man and a king you will be free to participate or not as you choose,” said Bacchus. “And if you change your mind I will not be any less friendly towards you.” 

Edmund screwed his courage and asked his boon, fancy a king asking for a boon, “Might I have a kiss?”

“And why do you want that?” Bacchus knelt by Edmund’s bedside. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Edmund dared insouciance. 

Bacchus rewarded him with a kiss that tasted of the sweetest wine and the slightest trace of a bitter herb. He cupped Edmund’s cheek and smiled so fondly Edmund forgot his earlier frustrations.

“Sleep, my poor mortal youth. You’ve kept yourself awake enough this night.” 

The god was gone in the next breath and Edmund fell into a contented slumber. He thought he might have dreamt the entire encounter if not for the ivy leaf he found on the floor the next morning. 

It was a good thing Edmund was starting to have a fondness for ivy. Among other things. 

He had a great deal to look forward to and for once he felt he might deserve it.


End file.
